


it is bitter, he said

by silver_atalanta



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_atalanta/pseuds/silver_atalanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tragedy is something that belongs to me, Sebastian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it is bitter, he said

\--0—0—0—0—  
The blue eye of an adult stares out from the face of a child, reflecting the deaths in the room as he surveys the scene silently, efficiently. Mutilated corpses of a few thugs; the half-torn body of a once-lord; a woman with her throat slit like a smile; the little body of a girl curled up and whimpering in a corner, almost lost under a dark looming shadow. 

“Should I spare her, my lord?” the shadow inquires through perfect teeth and perfect lips, tilting his head to the side as he stares down at the little horrified girl. “Poor thing has witnessed an awful lot…Wouldn’t it be torment to keep her alive?”

Yes, wouldn’t it? Ciel Phantomhive knows perhaps better than most what those who have witnessed horrifying events must go through. He understands and as the little girl, flecked in blood, turns her face a little so that her wide brown eyes meet his, he sees for an instant himself in her, in what she will become.

And could he allow such a thing?

“Kill her, Sebastian,” he orders carefully and the doe-eyes of the bloody girl flash with an emotion suspiciously like relief as the butler in black bows his head in understanding and, with a flick of his wrist, embeds a dinner knife right between the girl’s eyes. 

Ciel Phantomhive watches, unlike all the others, the life and light go out of the girl’s eyes; studies the slackness of her features, so delicate and fair, and the pretty line of blood running down her button nose. A child he thinks, gritting his back molars and grinding. A mere child. 

“Is there anything else you would like me to do, young master?” Sebastian asks him easily and when Ciel finally turns his eyes away from the girl the demon is watching him, those eyes—apathetic and always, always burning—staring straight into him. Into his soul, a laughable thing really…

“Why do you think I had you kill that girl there, Sebastian?” he asks conversationally, tapping his cane against the floor once, twice. “Hmm?”

“I should suppose it was because of mercy, sir,” his servant replies dutifully, pulling his white gloves back on. He still watches Ciel though even when it appears that he isn’t, a predator always keeping its eye on its prey. “I can tell that you pitied that girl.”

“Pitied her?” Ciel repeats slowly, a tad disdainfully. The blood from the little girl is seeping all across her face now, covering her expression almost entirely in red. “I suppose that would be the logical thing to conclude, wouldn’t it? Logic is a good thing; logic is, as you know, something I must always utilize. But no, I don’t really think I pitied that little girl, Sebastian.”

“Didn’t you see yourself in her place, my lord?” the demon asks, tone saccharine sweet with a bitter slash of mocking. “An innocent child, seeing so many die before her… Maybe she would have grown up and contracted a demon like you as well. Wouldn’t that have been a thing to see, my lord?”

“The last thing this mortal world needs is another demon running around, Sebastian.”

“You wound me, my lord.”

“Another demon, another desperate soul…But that is not likely to happen now, is it? She’s dead and I am the only one that remains with memories of death and despair. I am the only one that remains.”

“Compassion drove you to have me kill her then?” A fine brow arches sardonically and lips curl gently, wickedly, like the curve of the moon. “My lord, I never knew you had such emotions inside of you…”

“I don’t,” the little lord replies curtly, glaring fiercely at his tamed demon. “Compassion and pity—no, those emotions are useless just like that girl was. I had you kill her simply because there shall be no other that exists like me, do you understand? I won’t let anyone else exist like me.”

“Exactly how do you exist, my lord?” the dark-clad demon asks casually as he approaches the Earl, foots slow and steady and treading through pools of blood. He stops before Ciel, towering over the boy’s form and still Ciel stares up at him fiercely with those eyes, those eyes that blaze. “Do tell me, my dear lord.”

“Tragedy is something that belongs to me, Sebastian, along with revenge and hatred. But then, if you want my soul so badly, you must have already known that.”

“And don’t forget greed, master,” the butler replies, reaching out his hidden clawed hands to grab a hold of the boy’s trim waist and lift him like a leaf into his restricting arms. “After all, to assume that you alone own such things…A greedy thing to say, indeed. There are thousands of others who, right this instant, are suffering tragedy and yearning for the need for revenge.”

“But you did not go to them, did you?” the boy turns his eyes up, sky-blue and burning to look at the demon who’s arms he is wrapped in. “You came to me, a demon for my soul—no others, am I correct?”

“Just your soul, my master,” Sebastian agrees quietly, his fever eyes staring back just as intently at Ciel. The eye patch is covering the contract but the demon can still see it through the fabric, glowing with unholy fire and intentions. The boy fits firmly in his arms, tiny yet strong as he stares right back at the demon, so corrupt, so desperate, so determined to meet hellfire.

“You gave up your faith, my bitter lord; now the only faith you have…”

“…is you,” Ciel finishes for him as they leave the room of blood and bodies, unhurried and collected even with spots of blood on their clothing. “My faith must rest with you, Sebastian, the being that will eventually end my wretched life. I dare say we’ve gotten closer to that end tonight, don’t you, with the death of that pig.”

“The slaughtered pig and his piglets, sir,” the demon adds rather cheerfully as they step outside into the dark, dark night. 

“Yes, the piglets,” Ciel drawls as Sebastian takes off in his unnaturally fast run with his charge still perfectly secure in his arms. “Did that little girl and his little wife really think they could stop you? Stop us?”

“Devotion is a funny thing like that, my lord,” the running fiend says smartly, breath that smells like decaying flowers finding the boy’s little ear. “So are love and affection and other such things. Sense and intelligence are not needed in association to them.”

“Those things are considered good to humans you know. Love, devotion… I used to think they made a person strong.”

“An easily understandable concept. Perhaps they do make a person strong, in a sense, if you want to think of it that way.”

“What are love and devotion to a demon, Sebastian?”

“You shouldn’t have to ask what love and such nonsense means to a demon of all things unless you want a cliché answer. What do you think they are, my lord? I dare say you did love once after all.”

“Me? What I think of devotion and love? Unnecessary. Weak. Trivial, evanescent ideas and concepts—that’s what those things are. Strong for a moment and then gone, up in flames in my case. Sweet for a day and then bitter. Devotion and love are ways to lose the game, Sebastian; hate and power and determination—those are the winning pieces. I intend to win. I felt love once, yes, but that doesn’t matter now; love matters little when there is so much to hate and so much revenge to be had. But I grow weary of talking about this. Hurry home, Sebastian, I’m tired.”

“Yes, my lord,” the demon says as he flies over treetops and rooftops, towards the sickle shaped moon that smiles a grin that matches the one on the demon’s face, an empty space of endless holes. 

-0-0-0-0-0

In the Desert  
By Stephen Crane  
In the desert  
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,  
Who, squatting upon the ground,  
Held his heart in his hands,  
And ate of it.

I said, “Is it good, friend?”  
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;  
“But I like it  
“Because it is bitter,  
“And because it is my heart.”


End file.
